


Dream To Live

by DarkkBluee



Series: Prompt Fills [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Don't copy to another site, Harry Is A Horcrux, M/M, dreams within dreams, voldemort wins au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-06 01:49:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19052809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkkBluee/pseuds/DarkkBluee
Summary: Prompt: A fic where Voldemort realizes Harry is his horcrux and traps Harry in a never ending dream, with Harry's dreams being his memories. The horcrux in Harry does not like this, trapped in what could be its own personal hell, and is trying so very hard to get Harry to wake up.





	Dream To Live

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Originally, this was supposed to be a one-shot but I couldn't think of any way to fit all I thought of in less than 10k words. So I decided to post it as a multi-chapter work instead.
> 
> I've written about it, but how much will I complete? No idea. I have 2 other series I'm focusing on. This is not my priority. Sorry, Itsy. Nevertheless, I've written about it and it'd be a shame to leave it unposted. Here it is! 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

It is summer vacation and Harry has just turned 17. He wakes up to the sound of his aunt pounding on the cupboard, just as he has for the past 10 years.

 

“Boy! Wake up and make breakfast! It’s Sunday today and Dudley has a boxing match to get to. Be quick!” She snarls from the other other side of the door before stomping away.

 

It a shame, he thinks, that Stonewall High doesn’t have a summer classes program, nor a boarding school option. He has worked hard and been on a scholarship for the past 4 years, having an agreement with the clerk at the Fees and Financial Aid office to hold his scholarship status from the Dursleys and split the fee 60:40 in his favor with the clerk. The saved money is his salvation, his plan for a Dursley free adult life. And even, he doesn’t mind staying on as the Dursleys house-elf as much as he did before.

 

Yes,  _ house-elf _ . While he may have had dreams of a green light and high pitched laughter till he was 11, after were all vivid dreams of a magical fantasy world. A world where he’s the hero, the Chosen One, fighting against a snake-like villain. Where house-elves are surely his mind’s manifestation of his Dursley years as a fantasy creature that Harry sympathizes the most with. It is this creature, so underestimated and broken down by others, yet rebellious when required, that Harry sees himself him, rather the hero who shares his name. Harry thinks the hero is doomed anyways, for he is only 17 and is waging a war against a man who has forgotten more about magic than the mere school-boy can even comprehend. And surely, while he has dreamed of long-lost family coming and saving him from his servitude when he was younger, these dreams of his are the best manifestations of his repressed childhood that he could ever have wished for. 

 

Lately, the dreams have felt more like deja vu than figments of his imagination, like echoes of a past he had never lived or remember. But he doesn’t dwell on their vividness or their peculiarity. These dreams are useful and that’s all that matters. These dreams are the reason why he has an English Literature scholarship. These dreams make his everyday life as a slave to his own family almost bearable. Almost.

 

Because fantastic dreams or not, once he’s 18 and has a job, he’s running away to another continent and never seeing the Dursleys again.

 

He manages to make the breakfast on time, snatch a toast and some fruits to keep in his pockets and high tail it out the door in the name of ‘gardening’. Gardening is the one thing that he’s always enjoyed and Aunt Petunia has supported and taken pride. Though both their reasons for enjoying and encouraging Harry’s hobbies were different. Harry just wanted to stay away from the Dursleys and Petunia wanted the praise that came from having the best kept gardens in Little Whining.

 

He is bent down, weeding, when a hiss on the wind distracts him.

 

“ _ Harry… _ ”

 

He tenses and slowly turns towards the voice. But there is nothing there except trees and more grass.

 

“ _ Harry… _ ”

 

This whisper is closer, an almost caress and Harry turns slowly at the feel of a wet tongue flicking against his own hand. He looks down and sees a green snake.

 

“How did you come here?” He muses and picks up the snake just-so. Because the snake from the zoo in his dreams was cool and Harry made sure to look up everything about snakes and their handling the very next day.

 

The snake doesn’t reply, being a snake after-all. Harry cooes to the snake and goes over to the fence, letting the snake loose in his neighbour’s garden. The Dursleys might never tolerate any animal, whether it be pet or wild, in their yard. But their neighbours, Mrs. Number 7, was a lover of all things wild. Very pretty too, Harry thought, with blonde hair and dreamy eyes. But Dudley has had a crush on her since he hit his teens and Harry has never dared to look at her after a particularly nasty beating on his 15th birthday.

 

It is dinner time when Harry makes his way back inside. Aunt Petunia gives him another whack and a sermon for taking too long and leaves him with an order to be quick about dinner. Harry obliges. It’s not like he wants to spend any more time with the Dursleys anyways.

 

Dinner is the same Dursley affair as usual. With Dudley and Uncle Vernon laughing and demeaning him, Aunt Petunia shooting him disapproving looks and Harry trying to sneakily eat as much food as possible without drawing down the ire of his uncle and cousin onto himself. After, he collects all the dirty plates from the tables and brings out them in the sink, sorting the leftovers into containers and then focusing on washing the dishes before storing the leftovers and organizing the kitchen. He is tired by the time the dishes are done and thus is glad to see that sometime in the duration, Aunt Petunia had come into the kitchen and finished up with the rest. It is oddly considerate of her, he thinks, for his aunt has never lifted finger to help Harry out before. And certainly never done a good deed without proclaiming her own saintliness and his vileness. 

 

He drudges back into his cupboard before any of the Dursleys can catch him and force more chores on him. He lies back on his bed in the cupboard under the stairs and stares at the ceiling. He blinks and stares some more, for his place of rest looks odd today.

 

“I am so tired.” He whispers. He thinks the walls are brighter, the cupboard bigger on the inside and his bed softer. And then he scoffs. “Dreams are not reality, Harry. There is no such thing as magic. And even if there was, you’re surely a muggle. No magic to save you. So better stop hoping, Potter.” He scolds himself and closes his eyes. 

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and Comments are always appreciated.


End file.
